


Black Dust

by AWomanOfLetters



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Action/Adventure, But no tentacle sex!, First Contact, Forced Telepathy, Friendship, Gen, Hive Mind, Jellyfish, Mind Meld, Octopi & Squid, Telepathy, Water critters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-26
Updated: 2016-04-26
Packaged: 2018-06-04 14:36:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6662725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AWomanOfLetters/pseuds/AWomanOfLetters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An Away Team visit to a water world ends in near disaster for Spock and McCoy, and a very strange First Contact with a different kind of intelligence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Black Dust

Shammous was a water world. No continents, just minuscule hummocks of land pushing out of the shallow waters, lit by a K2V yellow-orange sun, slightly cooler and dimmer than the Earth's sun. There was animal life in the sea in abundance, but no signs of intelligent life forms at all.

The Away Team had transported to one of that multitude of tiny islands that dotted the endless sea, and now stood grouped by the shoreline. The air smelled of salt and rotting vegetation, and the only sound was the sighing of the breeze and the gentle lapping of waves against the shore. The sky was a vivid, brilliant blue, with a small flotilla of clouds drifting above them.

Kirk, hands braced on hips, swiveled from side to side, sharp eyes scanning the horizon. He drew in a breath, tasting the sea tang, smelling the familiar scent, and reminisced fleetingly about sailing in the Pacific near the academy. Though sailing here wouldn't be a challenge - the waters were too calm, the sea too shallow, and there wasn't a single rocky cliff in sight.

"Well. Not very exciting," he said, disappointed.

Spock, head bent over his humming tricorder, glanced up, eyebrow raised. "On the contrary, Captain. I find Shammous to be fascinating. It is rare to find a planet with no large land bodies, and the lack of any significant moons increases the rarity. The only tides are small, generated by the planet's sun, and the marine life here should be intriguing as a result."

He crouched down by the water's edge, pointing at the mat of slick, rubbery deep-green leaves undulating in the water, the dried remnants clinging to the soil outside the reach of the waves. "For instance. This appears to be similar to the melanosperms of Earth. However, the leaves are longer and narrower than any variations there."

Dr. McCoy leaned over him, peering at the sodden vegetation, and snorted. "Okay. I'll take your word for it. Not my cup of tea, though, and how you can find that glop of rotting seaweed 'fascinating' is beyond me."

"Doctor. Everything can be fascinating, if you are willing to expend the intellectual energy to observe." Spock's voice was dry. His long, narrow hand lifted the dried vegetation, turning it over for examination. He waved the tricorder over it, eyes focused on the screen.

"Bah! Looks bad, smells worse!" McCoy waved the odor away and straightened up.

Kirk smiled faintly at the byplay and returned his attention to the ocean stretching out before him, dreaming of sailing.

Spock stroked the leaf with sensitive fingers, stopping to pry a dried bladder away from the main stem. "Interesting. The pods of melanosperms on Earth typically contain the spores; if this species has developed the same way, this will be how it replicates - "

Out of the corner of his eye, Kirk saw Spock's finger, gentle as its touch was, penetrate the shell of the dried pod. A cloud of black dust exploded outward, engulfing Spock and floating on the breeze to surround McCoy as well. Both men spasmed with coughs, McCoy batting wildly at the dusty air as he doubled over. He whirled around and sprinted to them. "Spock! Bones!" Sliding to a stop beside McCoy, now sitting on the ground, he grabbed his shoulders and steadied him against the racking coughs. "Are you all right?!" McCoy just leaned against his legs, still bent double, coughing feebly. Spock had slid to his knees, his eyes dazed.

"Captain." Cough. "It seems that - " Cough. "We have ingested - " Cough.

"Enough. Stop talking, Spock, you're just making it worse." He pulled out his communicator and flipped it open. "Captain to Enterprise. Three to beam up, immediately. And have a medical team standing by!"

"Aye aye, Captain," came the reply, and the familiar, comforting feeling of the transporter scan surrounded them, the bland, watery scenery dissolving.

* * *

 

The medic alert sent Dr. Maria Ortiz barreling down the corridor, emergency kit in hand, followed closely by Nurse Chapel. They stumbled into the turbo-lift and waited impatiently as it zoomed to the proper level. More running, then they pounded into the transporter room. An engineering ensign dithered by the console, wide eyes fastened to the trio on the pad. McCoy was breathing stertorously and barely conscious, Spock only slightly better, and Kirk was coughing in spasms.

Ortiz scanned the downed men and slapped the intercom. "Sick Bay! Two gurneys to the transporter room, stat!" Dashing to the transporter pad, she knelt by McCoy, running the medical scanner over him and snapped, "Chapel! Oxygen for the captain!" Chapel rummaged in the kit, pulled out the breather apparatus and secured it around Kirk's head.

"Tell me what happened," Ortiz said to the captain, frowning at the readings on the scanner. She shifted to scan Spock.

"Spock - " He paused to cough.

"We'll take care of him."

He waved the comment away. "No - examining plant - melanosperm? - pod exploded - black dust - " The words were punctuated by more deep, rasping coughs.

"Okay. Pulmonary contaminant. Spores?" She looked at Chapel, who frowned thoughtfully.

"It could just be an irritant...?"

The sound of additional med team members with gurneys caught Ortiz's attention, and she directed them in getting McCoy and Spock up and strapped in, then she and Chapel hoisted Kirk to his feet, arms draped over their shoulders.

By the time the medical team rushed the three into Sick Bay, Bones was unconscious, and Spock, stretched out on one of the exam beds, was fading fast. Ortiz steered Kirk, protesting, to another bed. "Stop fussing. We need to get you back on your feet, and then we can concentrate on the others. Why you idiots insist on going out yourselves instead of sending juniors out, I'll never know."

He grinned at her grumbling, which drew an irritated click from her. "We like it. Why should junior officers get all the fun - " His comment, and the coughing jag that followed, drew a sour look from her.

"If this is your idea of fun..." She shook her head. "Enough. Christine, tents for all three, and put Kirk under. The coughing isn't doing him any good." Kirk started to say something, and she interrupted him sternly. "You may be the Captain of this ship, but in Sick Bay the doctor is the dictator. And since McCoy is down, and I'm his second, that means what I say goes."

Chapel deftly angled the hypospray into Kirk's neck, then leaned in to her and murmured, "The scanner shows evidence of attack on the blood-brain barrier." Ortiz's eyes widened, and she nodded back without a word.

* * *

 

Blue. Blue of all shades surrounded him. Turquoise above, fading into blinding white. Cobalt blue curled around, with rivers of royal blue and icy arctic blue flowing through it. Beneath him, the colors deepened, darkened, into a midnight shade that morphed into the blackest of blues barely discernible from ebony. Curls and swirls mesmerized him as he drifted along, edging closer to the moving streams.

Someone was drifting with him.

He turned his eyes?/attention?/thoughts? to his companion.

Long, slender, rubbery, undulating. Tendrils?/tentacles?/phalanges? - oh, medical training never left, did it? - reached out to him. He knew this other, and extruded a tendril in exchange, coiled it around.

*doctor*

Was that what he was? He expanded his attention, looked at himself from beyond, examined the bulbous center with its flashes of sparkling blue light, the ever-shifting cloud of tentacles that swirled in the water, drifting with the current.

*it appears that we are experiencing a joint hallucination*

A ripple of negation flowed through him, and his tendril slid away from the other, slithered back, reabsorbed. The instant loneliness made him extrude another coil and touch again.

*spock?*

*assuredly*

*what the hell is this?!* He extruded more tendrils in anger/distress/fear.

*i do not know* *it would be logical for us to dream of melanosperms* *however, we do not appear to be manifesting as such* His companion stretched thin in thought.

*dammit, spock, i'm a doctor, not some weird rubbery marine plant!*

*did i not just say as much?* *our physical forms are more like that of the octopodidae than of a plant* He suddenly had a flash of charts; a three-dimensional matrix of biological traits that linked together in a maze of connections; a jumble of Ps and Qs joined by strangely large Us, upside down, tilting left or right, that he vaguely remembered from logic classes at the academy. At the same time, he felt/sensed/perceived warmth/humor/friendship and an underlying respect. A few of his tendrils twisted together in embarrassment. But...octopuses?

*octopus?!* *dammit, that's not any better!* He "looked" again at his form, which turned purple in a frown, tendrils coiling tight in denial. *okay* *yeah, we do look kinda like weird octopuses* *i hate it when you're right* *how'd we get here?!* *how do we get back?* *what is this place?!*

Spock's form, still tethered by their conjoined tentacles, lengthened, then flowed back and forth, as if pacing. *i surmise that we are dreaming of life in the oceans of shammous* *though why we are dreaming of animal life - *

MCCoy's attention wandered, and he saw?/experienced?/thought? a giant glowing blob swimming down an arctic blue river towards them.

*spock* The blob, as it grew closer, separated into a vision of multitudes of shifting bulbous forms, tendrils/tentacles/growths intertwining, sparks flaring, stretching into the distance. The Spock form near him still undulated, lost in exposition.

* - when we had no evidence, puzzles me - *

*SPOCK!*

*there is no need to shout, doctor* * what is it?*

He oozed forth a thick filament, aimed at the approaching mass. Spock's form shrank into a spiky ball in shock. The sea of creatures engulfed them, reaching out, tentacles wrapping around them and pulling them in, touching, slithering, sliding, coiling around them, fusing them deeper and deeper into the linked mass.

A thousand thousand thoughts/feelings/emotions/memories flooded him. He was drowning, not knowing where he ended and they began; it all blended together. Through his touch with Spock, he could feel/hear/see the same shock, the same fear of losing himself. And, faintly, deep offense at being pulled in against his will, a thing Vulcans found repugnant, akin to rape. He sent/thought/felt comfort Spock's way, and the two clung together as they were pulled to the center of the flock/city/community.

* * *

 

Ortiz frowned at Kirk. "We got you into the bio-tent just in time. The spores - or whatever they are - didn't have time to be absorbed through your lung tissue. Aside from the residual cough, which should last a few days, you're good to go."

He sat on the edge of the bed, hands clenched around the edge. He could tell she was right; every time he breathed, there was a tickle that almost erupted into a cough, but aside from that he felt fine. It was Spock and McCoy that bothered him, made him linger. They both laid still on the medbeds, biotents obscuring their forms. He felt a twinge of panic, worry - he had heard Chapel's comment about the blood-brain barrier. But they'd faced dangerous creatures, diseases before. Surely this time would be no different?

Ortiz saw his worried look. "We're working on it, Captain. We'll figure it out, fix them." Her voice was gentle; he glanced up at her and nodded.

"I have faith in you, Dr. Ortiz. Bones has told me how good you are. Just be sure you get them back to us!" Her lean, dusky face flushed in blotches, and she brushed her coarse black hair back unconsciously. He grinned, and her blush deepened.

That was when a pair of deep, gasping breaths ripped through the room. The medbeds containing Spock and McCoy started to go crazy, alarms blaring and vital sign trackers bleeping in disarray. Kirk and Ortiz gaped that way.

The two men tossed and groaned, then Spock's thrashing arm caught in the biotent, bringing it crashing down around him. As Ortiz and Chapel dashed to restrain him, McCoy sat up straight, emitted a panicked keening, and swung his arms around, resulting in the same mess. Ortiz snarled and pushed Chapel to McCoy, who was now gasping and gargling.

"What's going on?! What's happening?!" Kirk yelled, leaping off his own bed and running forward to help Ortiz with Spock. She turned a harassed face to him.

"I haven't the vaguest idea - "

McCoy's gargling separated into words. "Hot! Too bright!" He looked around frantically and scrubbed his arms with his fists. "Stiff!" He keened again and started rocking. Chapel was trying to push him back down on the medbed, but he flailed his arms, pushing her away.

At the same time, Spock cried out, "Alone! No, no, no!" He, too, was scrubbing his fists on his body. He locked arms with Ortiz, then stroked her arms, and an anguished look crossed his face. He thrust her away abruptly, screaming, "Empty! Wrong!" His Vulcan strength had propelled her across the Sick Bay, into one of the empty beds, and Kirk changed direction to go check on her. Spock staggered up, head swiveling back and forth, and then he saw - or heard - McCoy, and stumbled forward onto his bed, clutching him.

In an instant, the two were entwined, arms trying to circle around arms, legs twisted into a spaghetti-like mess. McCoy's keening quieted, as he patted Spock's face, moaning, "Empty! Noooooo!"

If it hadn't been so utterly out of character for the two, Kirk would have howled with laughter.

As it was, when Ortiz scrabbled at the medbed next to her, grabbed a hypospray, and staggered up herself, he flung a delaying hand in front of her. "No." She glared at him.

"What?! The spores - ! We need to sedate them - "

He stared at the two entangled on the medbed, eyes narrowed, thinking. "I said, no."

McCoy gabbled something, then threw his head back and howled, "Alone! No - no - " One arm detached from the death grip on Spock and waved wildly in frustration. Spock stroked his face.

"Shhh. Shhh. Shhh. No...mind meld?" He stumbled over the words as if they were unfamiliar.

McCoy's head dropped, and he clutched at Spock's face with relief, staring deep into his eyes. "Yes! Missing! Aloooooone!"

Kirk watched in astonishment as Spock's hands shot forward, framing McCoy's face like spiders. First, that Spock would deign to do something so intimate in the midst of a crowd, second, that there was no chant to assist the process, third, that he was melding minds with _McCoy_ , of all people- !

But it wasn't McCoy, that was obvious. Not Spock, either. And, like magic, as the mind meld took hold, the two bodies relaxed, their breathing synced, the struggles stopped.

The overworked medbed chose that moment to go into failure mode. "This unit has encountered multiple errors and is ceasing operation," it droned, then powered down. Sick Bay was suddenly completely silent.

Ortiz and Chapel stared at the two, amazed, then Chapel turned to Ortiz with wide eyes. "Should...should I reboot it?"

Ortiz shook her head, hair swinging, and waved a wordless hand. "You're asking _me_?" she said, voice stunned. "I think...I think this whole scene may be a job for the captain...yes?" She looked at Kirk. Still watching the two with a shrewd gaze, he nodded. Then he stood up from his position beside Ortiz, slowly, carefully, walked to the medbed that Spock had been in, and sat down facing them.

The two looked at him as one.

"I am Captain James T. Kirk, of the starship Enterprise. And you are...?"

McCoy burbled something unintelligible. Spock shook him, and his eyes met Spock's again. He looked back at Kirk. "I am...Swimmer In The Stream Of Life," he said, stumbling over the words. He frowned, as if the words weren't quite correct. "This..." He slid a hand over Spock's face, then twined his arm around him. "This is...Nest Singer...Flock Song?...Voice Of The Nest? Words...not enough."

Kirk drew in a deep breath. He'd been right. Somehow, some way, the spores had...formed a mental channel? Swapped Spock and McCoy out for these two? He spared a hopeful thought that the two could be returned. But, right now...now he had a First Contact situation, and had to tread delicately.

* * *

 

*to the center*

*the heart*

*go, go*

*share!*

McCoy made sure that he and Spock stayed together as they were pushed deeper by the simple expedient of extending every possible tendril and wrapping it around him. Spock had had the same thought, so they were a well-defined clump of tentacles and bulbs, mostly separate from the others. It was a relief, because he could take shelter in Spock's well-ordered mindscape of fact/logic/intellect. He hoped that Spock found something familiar in him to cling to, as well.

They still got flashes of thought/memory/emotion every time another's tendrils brushed against them, moved them inwards, but it was no longer overwhelming. It was as if the creatures recognized their shock and were being...polite? Puzzlement pulsed at them from every touch; their desire/need/instinct to keep apart from the others was both strange and distressing. So they were brushed, stroked, pulled and pushed, but no longer entangled with the others during their...journey.

*doctor?*

*yes?*

*how are you...holding up?" It was a strangely informal phrase for the Vulcan to use, but perhaps he had gotten it from him?

*i really, really want a bourbon right now* He flared orange in amusement.

*the human tendency to retreat to mind-altering drugs in the face of overwhelming new experiences never ceases to amaze me* Spock's mental taste was dry. McCoy was tempted to release every tendril anchoring them together in irritation, but he had enough sense to ignore it.

*cold-blooded, logical Vulcan!* *this must be overwhelming for you, too, so stop being so bloody high and mighty!*

Spock lengthened in silent thought. Tied together as they were, he found himself stretching, too. It was a strange feeling.

*i admit that this has proven a unique experience* he finally admitted.

*unique!* *understatement of the year, you pointy-eared mealy-mouth!*

*i will point out to you that, at the moment, i do not have ears, so cannot be called 'pointy-eared'*

*what are ears?* The question came from the creature who was currently stroking them with multiple appendages. It felt/sounded/tasted...young. The memories that emanated from it were thin and shallow, and not overpowering.

*hey there, kiddo* *ears* *organs of the body developed to...um...concentrate sound and channel it to our brains* He focused on a remembered drawing from a medical textbook. *for both humans, like me, and Vulcans, like him*

The small bulb beside them retracted its tendrils and bobbed alongside them for a moment, stretching out into a thin, leaf-like configuration. Then it pulled back into a more octopus-like shape and extended a single tentacle, touching them delicately. *may i come with you to the heart?*

*sure, i don't see why not*

*doctor* *that might be unwise* *its parents may not...approve...of a journey with strangers*

*what are parents?*

McCoy flared orange again. *or not...*

* * *

 

Talking with Voice and Swimmer was...strange. They were obviously intelligent, but the simplest of human concepts proved difficult to get across.

"What is this 'starship' you emanate?" They spoke together, some words from Spock, some from McCoy, some from both. Both aliens seemed frustrated by the very idea of words. Kirk could understand, given that their culture seemed based on some type of communal telepathy.

"It - this, around us - " His wave encompassed the Sick Bay and beyond. "It is a structure humans have built to travel between stars." They looked at him blankly. He tried again. "Structure - do you understand that?" The two heads leaned together, communing silently.

"It is like..." Voice paused. Swimmer continued, "There is a crawler-on-the-sands that stacks rocks and hides beneath them..." Voice said, "Would that be a 'structure'?"

"Yes!" Kirk eagerly expanded on the idea. "The - the crawler stacking rocks - it is building. Making something out of other things. And what you describe is a very basic structure." He paused. "This ship, everything you see around you, was built, made, by humans. We live in it. We travel in it." They looked around, eyes flinching from the straight edges. "We travel to distant stars to meet new peoples - like yours."

Voice brightened. "Ah! Nest exchange!" Swimmer added, "We do that, too! That is how we are here! All nests do it: leave pods with the nest seed to float on the streams, and pick up floating pods from other nests." Voice chimed in, "We share...memories - stories - feelings - " Swimmer finished, "We learn about streams we have not visited, nests that have strange customs."

They smiled in tandem. Kirk tried to ignore how strange it felt to have Spock smile widely at him. Remember, this isn't Spock you're talking to!

They mused, "But in all our eons of sharing, we have never shared with a nest as - " "Strange - " "Different - " "As yours. We have never met stiff bodies that build and do not share." "Where in the streams do you float with this structure?"

Ortiz, who had long since sat down beside him, murmured, "I think they may not know what you mean by 'traveling between the stars'..." He shot her a glance, turned the idea over in his head.

"We do not float in the streams," he started, trying to figure out how to explain. "We...uh...float in the dark between the stars." All he got from them was incomprehension. How to simplify even more? "Above the streams, there is air - "

They stared at him in shock. "Above?" "Over?" "You mean The Bright?!" "Nothing can live in The Bright." "It is poison." "Death for all nestlings." He was getting used to them sharing a voice; sometimes they were individuals, sometimes they were a communal entity.

"Beyond The Bright, is darkness. And other Brights. We call them stars. Many stars have...streams, and people living on - in - those streams."

Slowly, bit by bit, he explained the purpose of the Enterprise and its crew. Slowly, bit by bit, they explained more of their culture of nests, and sharing pods, and "exploration" without actually leaving the nest.

* * *

 

Their young companion - Small Fixer Of Broken Tentacles, obviously a junior med student - "chattered" excitedly as they were funneled closer and closer to the heart. Around them, the creatures were larger and closer together, more so as they traveled on. Still, the news that these strangers wanted only limited sharing was passed forward, so there was space surrounding them even in this more densely packed part of the nest.

*you do not have a heart of the nest?* *how do you spread the sharing, then?*

Spock tried to explain sub-space and warp communications, to McCoy's intense amusement. Fixer's reaction came across completely confused.

*the biggest ones live at the heart* *when new memory pod gatherers visit, they share at the heart* *then the elders share outward* *it is faster than sharing from the edge* *then Swimmer Of The Streams and Voice Of The Nest will return, and you will go back to your nest*

*home!* *you mean we're not st - uh, making this our nest?* Relief echoed back and forth between Spock and him, amplifying as they shared. He felt almost giddy.

Fixer flashed orange and swooped around them. *of course not!* *why?* *is that how it's done where you come from?* *you must be from very far away!*

*very* was all Spock responded. He shared a fleeting sense of the immensity of space. Fixer compacted into a shocked ball, all but one tendril curling protectively around his core. His one extended tentacle poked at Spock in a tentative manner.

*that is...very...far away!* Shades of purple rippled across his surface in awe, mixed with a touch of fear. Fixer reached out to a few of the nearest elders with more tendrils, and the bodies clustered around them rippled purple, too. McCoy could see/feel/hear as the vast expanses of space were shared, further and further away from them.

As if sharing it had released him, Fixer's color snapped back to a more normal undulating blue. *wait'll the heart shares this!*

* * *

 

"They have reached the heart." "The elders greet them." "We can go now." "Thank you for sharing!" "Our nest will be sung about for many cycles of cold and warm waters!"

Kirk watched, wide-eyed, as Spock and McCoy, still tangled together, slumped to the surface of the medbed.

"Wait! Don't go! We need to find out more - !" He held out a pleading hand, but it was just two unconscious bodies.

"Too late," Ortiz muttered. She got up, grabbed a medical scanner, and started scanning both. "Hunh. All signs of the spores seem to be - " She stopped as the two bodies started moving again, groggy and halting at first, then more energetically, and their eyes opened.

McCoy, finding his face mere inches from Spock's, recoiled. "Gah! What the hell?!" He tried to sit up, but discovered his arms and legs were tangled up with Spock's. The look of utter horror on his face made Kirk start laughing. "Yeah, yeah, it's all very well for _you_ to laugh, dammit! _You're_ not the one practically merged with a fishlike Vulcan logic machine!" Kirk's howls of laughter turned to a breathless gasping, as he hunched over and clutched his belly.

Spock said mildly, "Though my eyes are not open, I am awake and can hear every word you speak, Doctor."

"Well, then, dammit, untangle yourself from me!" He matched his words with an undignified wiggling that released at least one arm and leg. Spock opened his eyes, watched his attempts with a tilted eyebrow, then sat up and disentangled them further. As soon as they were completely separate, McCoy leaped to his feet, making sure that he was at least a few feet distant from the Vulcan. "Gah! Gah! Fifteen mint juleps will _not_ make up for this - this - argghhhh!"

Spock sat straight and stiff on the medbed, regarding him with a dour expression. "Indeed. I share your sentiments. Perhaps some plomik soup will steady my nerves."

Kirk snorted. _Back to normal._ "Gentlemen. I want your reports in the computer by 1800 hours."

"Report?! You want a damned report?! I'll be in my quarters, drinking!"

Spock stood up and walked toward the Sick Bay door. "I will be in my own quarters, meditating to clear my thoughts. The doctor's mind is...most illogical and I am pleased to be free of it."

McCoy bristled. "Better than matrices of biological connections and logic equations!" He marched stiffly to the same door. The two collided, and Spock steadied himself with a hand on McCoy's arm. Then they were out the door, leaving Kirk, Ortiz, and Chapel behind.

Kirk wasn't sure, but he thought he saw Spock's hand slide down McCoy's arm and their fingers intertwine as the door swished shut behind them.

_Nah. Must be seeing things._


End file.
